


All Too Real

by SterekShipper



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SterekShipper/pseuds/SterekShipper
Summary: When Theo is alone and scared, he does the only thing he knows. He calls Liam.
Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76





	All Too Real

“Theo?”  
“Help. Help me.”  
“What’s wrong?” He could barely register the sense of urgency in Liam’s voice, the concern. All he knew was the utter fear flooding his body. It was clawing its way into the depths of his chest, searing everything it touched.  
“Can’t. Breathe.”  
“Where are you?”  
“Library. Park-ing. Lot.”  
“I’m on my way.”  
He clung to the phone, Liam’s voice on the other end. Liam never left, never hung up. It was his lifeline. One he was afraid to lose.

One minute he was pulling up to return the books he’d borrowed for class, and the next he was doubled over in his truck. His breaths were forced, barely more than a huff of air. Each more shallow than the last. His heart felt like it was ready to explode; as if a parasite was trying to escape. The burning presence of fear was a knife, slicing him wide open.  
This was it. This was how he died. Alone in his truck. Fitting, considering what he’s done. It had finally caught up with him. He should have known better than to think he could outrun his past.  
It was inevitable; his fate cast in stone. Doomed to walk the corners of hell for eternity. Sentenced to a life unlived. Forever cold, forever hunted.  
Clarity was rapidly fading; lightheaded and vacant, thoughts eluded him. The outside world slipped away; the only trace remaining was the faint, almost inaudible sound of Liam’s voice. What had once been his safety, his anchor, now out of reach. Floating in waters beyond his fleeting consciousness.  
“Theo? Theo, can you hear me?” He was past the point of response; too far gone. This was where Tara would reclaim what was hers. “Answer me.”  
There was no voice now. All was lost. Here he lay, alone and weak. He brought this on himself. It was only fair. He had cast the same death upon so many; why should his be any different? Why should he be farewelled? Why should he receive comfort? This was how it should be.  
How it was meant to be.

That’s when he felt it.  
The phantom hand. The ghostly touch.  
Betrayed by his own mind; the heart of all cruelty. The false hope... It broke what little he had left; the little peace that survived. The knowledge he’d had something. Something real. Something special.  
He’d had Liam.  
He’d had a life.  
A life where he was loved. Where he was accepted. Forgiven. Where he was given a second chance.  
Not that it mattered. In the end, nothing had changed. He was merely a dead man walking. Maybe that was the true punishment.  
The belief he’d escaped.

Just make it stop. Let it be over.  
Fate had other plans.  
Even now, when he’d thought no more could be done, that he had nothing else to lose, he’d been sorely mistaken. For that’s when the voice returned. The one voice he wanted nothing more than to hear. One last time. Liam. What he would give to see those blue eyes, that smile. To be able to hold on to the one person who’d, despite everything, shown him kindness.  
The sudden ache was too much.  
He couldn’t bare it any longer.  
“Let me go. I can’t take it anymore.” The words were weak; brittle shells of the person he once was. The desperate plea of a man awaiting his fate. One he already knew.  
“Theo. I’m not going anywhere.”  
“Don’t use him. Please, not Liam.”  
“I’m right here.”  
“Not Liam. Please, not Liam.” It became a mantra of sorts. His dying wish.  
“ _Theo_. Look at me.”  
It could be the answer he so desperately needed. Maybe even the way out. If he just looked, if he faced the truth, that no one was there... It would hurt more than anything he’d ever known, but maybe, just maybe, he’d finally be lost to the dark.

It wasn’t.  
For there, he saw it.  
Blurry as it was, there was no mistake. Staring back at him, eyes full of love and fear, was Liam. His Liam. He felt the warm tears falling, stirring the ache for someone he couldn’t have. Someone he wouldn’t see again.  
“You’re not real.”  
“What? Theo-”  
“You’re not real.”  
“Come on, T.” Liam shook him. At least that’s how it felt. He wouldn’t let himself be deceived. He wouldn’t give into the illusion. No matter how desperately he wanted to. That lasted until the kiss. The firm press of lips on his that softened as time ticked on. All thoughts lay abandoned. All pain set aside. He was absorbed in the feeling that arose with that one motion.  
When the touch was inevitably lost, when Liam pulled away, he found himself craving more. Craving the person who’d first shown him such love. He could breathe. The tight, consuming pain he’d felt receded. The fog enveloping his mind cleared. Daring to open his eyes again, he blinked. Then blinked again. He was once more met with the sight of Liam. Only this time, it was different. There was a familiarity, a sense of belonging that had been missing the first time. Shaky and terrified to be proven wrong, he reached out to brush the side of Liam’s face; hand resting on Liam’s cheek.  
“Li?”  
“Yes.”

With that simple reassurance, the realisation this was, in fact, real, set the last remnants of fear to rest. He let his head drop; leaning wholly into Liam. His body had been sapped of energy, instead feeling like he’d been trampled or run over.  
“What happened?” How was he alive? How was he talking and awake, when moments before he’d been dying?  
“You had a panic attack.”  
It was stated with care, and yet, he was thrown nonetheless. Thinking back on it, he could see the signs. The lack of air, the dizziness, the fatigue, the _fear_... This was _just_ what he needed. Now, not only was he forced to live through constant nightmares, he was apparently prone to freaking out about nothing. He couldn’t suppress the groan; the thought alone was enough to make him cringe. “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”  
“Theo-”  
“I don’t want to talk about it.”  
“T-”  
“I said no.”  
“Do you want to have another one?”  
He flinched. That was the _last_ thing he wanted. “No.”  
“Then, we need to talk. We need to work out what caused it.”  
“That’s the problem, Liam! _Nothing_ caused it! I was just sitting here!”

“Don’t you see? Something had to set you off. People don’t just panic without a reason.” Liam sounded so reasonable, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he hadn’t just had ice water thrown in his face. Like the revelation of panic attacks _didn’t_ make everything ten times worse.  
“I’m not your usual person, Liam. I’m not exactly normal, either.” Liam did not look impressed with the comment. In fact, it looked like he might end up with a broken nose, and he did _not_ need that right now. “Fine. What do you think this so-called reason is?”  
“It doesn’t have to be anything big. It could a sound or a smell.”  
“Seriously? How am I supposed to figure that out?”  
“What did you hear?”  
“I don’t know! What does anyone hear outside a library?!”  
“Theo.” There was that disapproving tone again. Sometimes, he really felt like a child.  
“Alright! Cars. People talking. Machinery. A weird frequency-”  
“Wait. Frequency?”  
“Yeah. It came out of nowhere.”  
“Like the Dread Doctors?”

The Dread Doctors.  
He’d tried so hard not to think about them. About what they’d done to him. What they made him do. It wasn’t that long ago, where he’d been working alongside them. When they’d convinced him to infiltrate Scott’s Pack. To attack. To _kill_. It wasn’t that long ago he’d wanted to. He’d wanted to have his own Pack, to be in charge, no matter what it took.  
One mention of their names, and it all came flooding back. The things he’d done. The faces of those he’d killed. The blood on his hands. He could feel his chest restricting. He felt metallic hands holding him down; saw the unforgiving masks hovering above. He felt the ghostly memory of every experiment, every manipulation.  
The guilt, the shame... 

“Hey. Theo, breathe with me.” Liam was still there. Still holding him. “Listen to me. You’re safe. Just breathe.” It took a while, but eventually they returned to a relative calm.  
He hadn’t been this tired, this wary, for as long as he could remember. Despite every supernatural being, despite every fight, despite letting himself feel, he had never experienced this before. This overwhelming sense that the peace could shatter at any moment. That without warning, he could be right back there. “I can’t do this, Liam. I can’t. Not again. The nightmares are hard enough. Seeing Tara... To have to face the-” Their name lodged in his throat. “To face them...”  
“We’ll figure this out. One way or another. I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again; especially when we don’t know what caused the frequency you heard. What I can say is you’re not alone. I’m in this with you, and that’s not going to change.”

He held onto Liam’s words; clinging to the hope they could soon put this behind them. He saw them for what they were.  
A promise.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was one of my newer ideas. It was just something that came to mind one day. I hope y’all liked it. 😃


End file.
